


Command

by thunderbird_dragon



Series: The WASP Years [6]
Category: Thunderbirds, Thunderbirds are go!
Genre: F/M, Jeff Tracy (also shows up for a moment towards the end too), john tracy (very small bit towards the end), the WASP years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderbird_dragon/pseuds/thunderbird_dragon
Summary: Part six of the WASP Years - Gordon Tracy now almost 19, is still serving aboard the WSM Triton at the end of the insurrection whilst a tentative cease fire holds but for how long?  A covert operation to help that cease fire last needs a brown eyed, blonde submariner and Gordon happens to be the only one available who also speaks the insurrectionist language.  But the lead officer on the mission is a secretive girl a little older than him who isn't too impressed with his efforts, but he puts up with her as it gives him the opportunity to take temporary command on a Manta Class sub.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the WASP Years - my attempt to fit everything into Gordon Tracy's young life before he joins his family in International Rescue. For the purposes of my series Gordon would be 20 years old at the start of International Rescue so that all fits reasonably. This way it all works best with TOS but also for TAG if you really stretch it a bit - it depends on your own views as to how old the boys are in TAG and if they have time for the older cannon.  
> This is where I have also place Gordon's first actual encounter with Penny (aka here as Ten) but it's just my head cannon! She’s a bit focused here, but give her a chance, there’s good reason.
> 
> With extra special thanks to @ kellyfhaycock for beta-ing for me, you did a fantastic job, thank you sooooo much.

 

**The WASP Years - Command**

Gordon loved 02.00hrs on board the submersible Triton. 

Those that were on duty with him, spoke in hushed tones. Lighting was dimmed, not just down in the berths, but throughout the sub, and over half the crew were sleeping.  This gave an overall impression that it was night time and gave a rhythm to their days. 187 souls in perfect harmony.  He was two hours into the Mids Watch – with the nasty taste of the midrats ravioli, thankfully diminishing in his mouth, a text book open on his lap.  

And he, Gordon Cooper Tracy, all of 18 years of age, had the Con of this mighty vessel again for the rest of the watch.

Sometimes he could hardly believe his meteoric rise through the officer ranks of WASP, but of course, he wasn’t alone.  Hundreds of young officers had been forced up through to fill the places left due to the insurrection that had raged throughout the globe for the past few years. The Captain himself was only 27 years old, and the XO an astonishing 21!  Officers and crew alike were in very short supply - if you worked hard, and Gordon did, then opportunities were offered to you.  

The Triton was an Orca class submersible, a fully-loaded, Banz missile-carrying warcraft, slicing through the water at a steady 112 knots. She was 710 ft long, with a width of 57 ft, and she had been home to Gordon for the past few months.  He’d joined as a sub-lieutenant and was now a senior Lieutenant, known as and always addressed as ‘Aqus’, now that he was in charge of the sub’s aquanaut teams, a legacy of the old naval tradition of shortening every title. 

He nestled down in the ‘big chair’.  The Mids Watch, 00.00 to 06.00hrs, was habitually the quietest.  The hum of the Source engines was soporific, the rhythmic bleeps and tones of the controls adding to the overall gentle feel of the night time.  In front and beside him, two other Lieutenants, ‘Ops’ and ‘Weaps’, were discussing repairs to the forward missile bay quietly, ‘Phones’ was intently listening to a pod of whales far to the east of them and the Chief was checking all departments for flaws.  All was well on board, thankfully.  They’d had a hard few years, but now a tentative ceasefire was holding, the insurrection quiet.  All they could do now was pray that it would last long enough to become a permanent peace.

Grateful for the respite, they relaxed, not much, but maybe just a little.

Yes, Gordon liked 02.00hrs.

He looked down at his text book, open at the vast section on epibiotic micro-organisms in copepods. He was finding it hard to get past page 103 as his full attention was on the Triton.  But, like many of his fellow young officers, his general education had slipped way behind during the insurrection.  Amazingly though, when it came to his WASP studies, he was at the last hurdle with his Submarine Warfare Officer Qualifications to be able to command.  He was hoping that, if he was lucky enough to get an examination slot, he could pass it within the month, just before his 19th birthday.  However, his external studies for his Marine Biology and Hydro-engineering exams still seemed miles away.  He’d promised his father, faithfully, that he wouldn’t let that happen but there was little he could do about it.

Since the ceasefire, his captain had encouraged all his younger officers to catch up on their external studies, and had given dispensations to study during the Mids and Early Watches – if and only if, it was quiet.

And blissfully - it was quiet.

It was John who had put him on to using textbooks rather than net-learning.  

“With a textbook you can judge just how much you have learnt already!” Gordon could hear him saying it, John’s sea blue eyes intent on the theory of absorbing knowledge.  Trouble was though, that Gordon could also see how much more there was to learn – he was barely a quarter through.  He turned the book to get a better look at one of the dissection diagrams, then rubbed at his face and looked round for a diversion from the studies. 

Then he remembered he’d had a message in from his father.  He’d not wanted to deal with it at the time, still angry after their last conversation.  This damned project of his father’s was getting so big, that now even Virgil, who had no military training at all, had agreed to join in.  Gordon sighed deeply, drawing the attention of ‘Ops’ and ‘Weaps’, he nodded acknowledgement that he’d disturbed them and reached for his comms.

The message was in his private file. 

Agitated before he had even read it, he flicked it open.  “ _Hi Son, just wanted to congratulate you on the promotion news.  We will all celebrate when we see you next month at Cannes, can’t tell you how proud we all are of you_.”

Some of the agitation dropped away as Gordon smiled. Oh, so he already knew about the possibility of a promotion did he? Gordon was always amazed at what his father could find out – but yes, a promotion to Commander was in the offing. So far though, not confirmed, and Gordon wondered if his father also knew that it was dependant on a worthy pass in his exam.

“ _News from the boys:  Alan has passed his entrys and can start university next year_!”

Gordon just knew his little brother would ace them, the kid was a genius – maybe even more so than John! – he would be starting university how many years early?

“ _John and Scott are in Geneva, with Lee, getting trained for the higher speeds of the new crafts.  You wouldn’t believe the test speeds we’ve achieved for the first one_!”

Actually, yes he would. Gordon had no doubt that the little guy his father had working in his labs on the island was capable of all manner of miracle speed enhancements.  

Next, he sighed, he didn’t want to read the next line.  He could see it had Virgil’s name in it.

“ _Virgil’s started training too now, he’ll be dealing with all the logistics to begin with, until we get him up to speed with the main aims of the organisation_. 

The next line just plain annoyed him.

“ _He has agreed to give it three years_.”

Dammit all!  Virgil was on the very edge of an incredible career as an artist.  He’d studied Engineering to such a high degree that it was phenomenal, but he’d also painted his way through university, determined to be independent of his father’s funding, and now, he was on the verge of a massive breakthrough into…  well, who knew what!  Dragging him away right then was almost criminal.

Gordon’s anger rose again – yes, he understood that his father was attempting something wonderfully philanthropic. Hell, the world needed a little goodness pumped back into it after the last few years.  But surely this was too much for one man to try to achieve, even with the help of his sons.

Then came the obvious, Gordon knew it must be in the comm somewhere:

“ _Maybe when I see you next month, you and I could talk again, perhaps before your race.  We’ve started on a small submersible craft for you, with the capabilities we talked about before.”_

Gordon flicked off the comms with a slap, again drawing the attention of those around the Con, but a sudden change of reverb on the sonar instantly took everyone’s attention before anything could be said.

He stepped over to look down at the screen.  The sensors were trying to work out what the sonar could see.  A craft, small, possibly identical to a WASP Manta class.  The diminutive craft realised it had been seen and flashed away, capable of speeds far in excess of those of the Triton.  Whoever it was and whatever they were up to, they didn’t want to be watched by a big-assed WASP sub.

“Ensign,” Gordon called the 16 year old stood close by.  “Wake the Captain please, and tell him we have detected a suspect craft.” It had long been a tradition on WASP subs, a politeness, offered to a sleeping Captain, to have someone wake him rather than use the comms.  Then Gordon hit the lights, bringing instant daylight back to the Con. 

Voices raised to sharp clarity as officers brought their people to awareness.

“What have you got for me, Mr Tracy?”  The Captain must have been dressed and waiting at the door of his stateroom, the XO was close behind him.

“A craft, approximately 30ft long, it looks to be a decommissioned Manta Ray class.  It took off when ‘Phones’ spotted it, Sir.”

The Captain acknowledged the report and then watched the sonar screen, then the sensors.  “This is the one, XO.”

The XO agreed, and Gordon realised, as did the rest of those on the Con, that the senior officers knew all about the little Manta and were expecting to find it.

What was this, an exercise?

Why else would they not have warned the Mids Watch?

“Stealth please Mr Tracy.  This is our hostile.”  The XO raised her eyebrows.

“Stealth, it is, sir.”  And the message was passed throughout the sub. All hands were now wide awake, silently going about their duties and all very aware that this was not an exercise.

Within seconds, two other craft were showing on the sonar, the sensors identifying them as the WASP subs WSM Poseidon, another Orca class, and the flag ship herself, WSMF Eyten.  Four other blips showed simultaneously, three Stingray class and another Manta, working to surround the little craft silently.  Should the hostile craft break through the cordon they had enclosed around it, the ray classes had the speed to rein it in.  Capture was inevitable.

Warning shots were loaded ready, comms were blocked away from the craft, whilst initial contact was made towards it.  If they had to take the hostile by force, then everyone there was ready for it.

But no resistance was given, the hostile was taken without a shot being fired. It was surrounded, out gunned, out classed and unable to contact their own.  Surrender was its only chance.

Surprisingly, the boarding party was chosen from Triton and not the flag ship.  They brought back five prisoners.  As Officer of the Watch, it was to Gordon that they came initially under guard. The Captain, back at the Con, was watching his ‘Aqus’ lieutenant intently. It was noticeable and making Gordon uneasy, but he processed the prisoners quickly and efficiently.  

There were four men and a girl, who stood close in to one of the men for protection, but then lashed out with her long sharp nails at the guard when he went to separate them.

“Hey, no need for that, Miss!”  Gordon moved swiftly to take her wrist.  “Why isn’t she restrained like the ….” But before he could finish his question to the guard, she had thrust her knee into Gordon’s unsuspecting crutch, so hard it downed him completely.  He lay unaware of the scuffle to take hold of the girl and properly restrain her, the same as the others.

As they were lead away to the brig, the Captain knelt over Gordon, “You okay ‘Aqus’?”

Hell, of course he wasn’t!  But he could hardly shout at his commanding officer, instead he tried to sit up, the turquoise poopysuit suddenly very tight across the offended area.

“’Aqus’, I really need to know if you’re okay right now!” the Captain’s patience was shorter than usual.  “Aqus!  Come on lad, I’ve singled you out for a special mission to the Admiral.  I need to know you can still stand!”  And he grabbed Gordon’s arm and dragged him upright.  The blood left Gordon’s head completely and he swayed, too dizzy to speak, but stupidly he stayed standing.  “Good!  You’ll do!”  The Captain said and he handed Gordon over to the Chief, “My stateroom as soon as he can walk please, Chief!” Then he turned and asked unexpectedly, “No firearms were issued, were they Chief?”

The Chief looked blankly at him before replying clearly, “No firearms, Sir!” It mystified the Chief for a moment, but then Gordon announced he was about to throw up and it took all his attention.

Only a matter of minutes later, Gordon and the Chief were stood in the Captain’s tiny stateroom. It had just enough room for half a desk, a chair, lockers and a bed, not a bunk, a proper bed.  There was little room for a fourth person, but the XO squeezed in behind them anyway.

“You better now, ‘Aqus’?”  the Captain asked. Gordon was pale but standing, and at least he didn’t have to worry about the midrat’s ravioli any longer.   “Why don’t you sit - over here?” And the Captain indicated the furthest point away on the bed.  

Gordon accepted the chance to sit. Everything still throbbed, and he could tell that the Captain wanted to speak privately to the others.  The room was so tiny that he should still have been able to hear what was said but the ringing in his ears blocked out most of it, as his blood pressure tried hard to rebalance itself.

The Chief and XO left.

The Captain sat at the desk, expectantly.  Gordon waited.

The alarm sounded for the second time that morning and echoed throughout the sub, men shouted, footfalls up and down the corridor, and still the Captain sat. Gordon couldn’t stand it any longer, he stood. “Sir?”

But the Captain merely waved his hand to indicate for Gordon to sit and wait again.

Two distinct gun shots!

“Sir!”

“Sit, Mr Tracy!”

The door behind the Captain opened and the girl slipped in, holding the gun that had just been fired.

“I do hope none of my crew is injured, Miss?”  he asked, “I paid particular attention to be sure that no firearms were issued to my crew, my orders were not to allow you to be hurt.”

“Of course, thank you for your co-operation, you were obviously well briefed by the Admiral. And no, none of your crew are injured.”  She spoke in the most beautiful English tones, her long blond hair tied back for practicality and her crystal blue eyes fixed on Gordon. “Oh please!  Tell me this isn’t the one you’ve chosen for me?  I said I needed someone with balls, I’ve just got rid of this one’s!”

His mother would have called that ‘potty mouthed’, but Gordon wasn’t at home now. He stood, waiting to be briefed.

She took the half step it needed to stand close to him. He could feel her soft breath as she examined him closely, see the depth of blue in her eyes and smell the floral scent to her hair.  With his blood pressure still struggling a little, it was all too heady for him, he drew in a deep breath to steady himself.

“You’re a bit young, aren’t you?”  She spoke at him as though he was five.  What she saw was a fresh faced youth - was he not fully shaving yet?  She ran a finger along his jaw to check, he didn’t flinch.  She needed a good swimmer, she ran a hand down his chest and stomach looking for good muscle definition, he still didn’t flinch.  She needed someone who could pass as a Nettanian, he had the necessary brown eyes - a stunning amber brown at that – and he was fair haired.  She checked his roots, yes, he was naturally blond.  “Mmm, you’ll do, and you can speak Nettan?”

“Not like a native, no, but I can manage,” he replied in the Nettan tongue.  She raised an eyebrow at that.  

He looked to his Captain.  The senior officer looked uncomfortable, but said nothing.

“Well, okay then.”  She swung herself up to sit on the desk. “All I need from you, if it’s not too difficult, is to take me back to Peor in Nettan in the captured little submarine we arrived in and wait for me.  Don’t be boarded, don’t engage in any conversations, just await my return.  Then, I shall need you to fetch something for me at the bottom of the ocean and bring me back here.  Simple really.  Do you think you could do that?”  Her tone was still condescending and it was beginning to irritate Gordon, he again looked to his Captain.  Why wasn’t the Captain adding anything to this?  Who the hell was she?

He chose the retort, “Surely, what you need is a chauffeur!”

“Tracy!” the Captain warned sharply.

“Tracy?  Isn’t that a rather a girly name?”  She slid from the desk and was mocking him closely, face to face with him.  If she needed his input for her clandestine work, then she needed to work on her team spirit and people skills.

The Captain had had enough and abruptly stood. “Tracy is the family name.  You will address him as _Lieutenant_.  And you will treat him with respect, especially as you will be asking so much of him.  What do we call you?”

She turned her back entirely on Gordon, much to his relief, her closeness was causing problems lower in his body that he totally resented.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew so much about this mission, Captain.” She eyed the older man with a little more caution.  “I am assuming then, that you are aware for whom I am working?”  He nodded, though to be truthful he wasn’t totally sure. Obviously, a higher authority than his own admiralty and that scared him.  She flashed a look at him, “Then, all you need to know is that you will refer to me as Ten.” 

Gordon watched the exchange between his Captain and Ten – unsure of quite what was going on.  A mission, okay, but there was something more, something he wasn’t aware of yet.

She stepped closer to Gordon again, “And has the _Lieutenant_ been furbished with the required uniform?”

The Captain pointed to the cellophane covered red and blue all-in-one poopysuit ready for Gordon’s use.  Gordon frowned, the same red and blue of the prisoners they had just taken.  

“Sir?”

The Captain recognised the concern on his Lieutenant’s face and insisted on having a word with him, she reluctantly agreed but didn’t leave the room.

“The enemy’s uniform, sir?  If I’m caught, I will be shot!”  Gordon knew the lines had been blurred during the insurrection, but needed some sort of reassurance.  

None was forthcoming.

“Look ‘Aqus’, the fleet had orders to find the closest match to her criteria, you were it.  I’m sorry but I was forced to ‘volunteer’ you.  You have been given no choice.”  The Captain looked apologetic, he had spoken quietly in a way that reminded Gordon of his brother, Scott.  It worried him.  Then the Captain felt the need to clarify this completely, so added unexpectedly. “And trust me, it wouldn’t matter if you were wearing your own or the enemy’s uniform, if you get caught – I believe you will be shot!”  His hand was on Gordon’s shoulder.  “I’m not happy about this, but there’s little I can do other than put in a strongly worded protest to the Admiralty, but it’s really no good.”  Then he offered, “The best I can do is reassure you, that I will tell your father what a fine officer you’ve become if you don’t come back!”

Gordon felt his stomach drop out.  “It’s that dangerous a mission, sir?”  His Captain nodded.  “Then sir, could you also let him know I was sorry we argued last time I spoke with him.”

The Captain looked closely at him, this was something he wished he didn’t understood, then asked, “Anything else you need me to do?”

Gordon shook his head and reached for the red and blue uniform. Ten watched as he took off his own, the beloved turquoise of the WASP all-in-one poopysuit that were so easy to wear in the subs.  Unabashed, she took particular notice of the swimmer’s body, pale from lack of sun, but beautiful nonetheless, and the trouble he took to make sure the new uniform was on correctly.  Mmm, he was going to be an interesting companion to Peor.   

He entered the small sub first.  The controls were labelled in French. He looked for its classification, and sure enough, it had been the WASP SM Stonefish, a manta class as they had suspected, taken by the insurrectionists during a raid in 2052.   He checked her over quickly. She was in a poor state, the general dirt and untidiness just a minor problem against the cracks in the hull’s single skin and the rust where there shouldn’t be anything to rust.  She should have been entirely made of reinforced fibreacre, how the hell had she been riveted with steel?  And why?  She must have had some hard times in the past with little attention shown her.  He felt for her, she should have been the pride of any fleet, quick and nimble.  Hell, he’d jump at an assignment in a manta any day, though perhaps not this one.

If the Stonefish held together long enough for him to get this damned girl to Peor and back, he’d be amazed.

Ten entered behind him and flung the text book at him, “You forgot your picture book!”

He caught it deftly, just as well as it was only borrowed. 

“Thank you,” he said politely. At least he could show proper manners, maybe in time they might rub off on her.  He couldn’t work out why she had to be so hostile to him, they both worked for the better good, why not just be civil?

She let him get on with it, sitting in the side seat, watching him intently.  It unnerved him but he wasn’t about to let her know.

“You ready?”

The tiny sonar reading showed all the WASP craft backing away, releasing the little craft to start her journey to Peor.  Gordon and Ten chose not to speak.  He concentrated on the constant course corrections needed to keep the Stonefish going in a straight line. She wandered so badly that he was beginning to wonder if she even had a rudder.  

And Ten concentrated on him.

After two hours of it, Gordon’s irritation had grown to speaking point, “Haven’t you got anything better to do than to stare at my left ear?”

“It’s not your ear I’m looking at!”  She was un-phased by his sudden question. “I’m trying to work out how on earth you got to be a senior Lieutenant at your age. What are you? 14?”

“I object to that, I’m 14 ¾!”

“Oh, so you are capable of humour then – no, really how old are you?”

“Just about to turn 19.  We’re all young or hadn’t you noticed?”  He turned to look at her.  “You can’t be much older, what are you 23?”

That bit a little.  She would never show it, but he’d hit the nail on the head, she was in fact 23, but a very old 23.  The insurrection had aged her, she’d left behind her cossetted and privileged upbringing on the porch of her father’s manor.  Recruited into MI5 at 16 years old, now she was in a similar department, unlabelled, but technically attached to the GDF.  Mmm, maybe she was being unfair attacking his age.

She turned to look out through the scratched and dirty side screen and didn’t speak again until they surfaced at the entry to the port. 

“Go right on through, they know the craft here, we won’t be challenged.”  She pointed to a mooring amongst other similar sized craft. “Right there!  Now, you stay with the sub, and try hard not to speak to anyone.  If you have to, if anyone questions you, then you are Paulie.  Ritter’s brother in law.  Ritter’s asked you to bring the sub here and you don’t know why.  Understand?”  She really wasn’t used to her authority being questioned.

Who the hell was she, some sort of aristocrat?                      

“Paulie, right.  Which of Ritter’s sisters did I marry?”

She snapped a glare at him and huffed impatiently, “The third eldest, Laia, she married a farm boy, he’s a bit slow!”

He resented the implications, “Okay, but what if Laia happens to turn up?”

“She won’t!  She’s being held by the GDF.”  She could see he was going to ask another question - was he doing this on purpose just to annoy her, because it was working!  She raised her hand sharply, “No more – just don’t speak to anyone, until I return.”  And added as an afterthought, “And when I do return, keep it up, I’d rather you didn’t speak to me either!”

That went well, Gordon thought to himself.  He watched her neat little ass as she walked away from the sub. Okay, so this job had some advantages.

From about four minutes in, he had begun to pace.  The sub’s cabin was exactly ~~4~~ four paces long, he counted each one, turn and count again.  It should have driven him mad but it was, in fact, the only thing keeping him sane.  She had not given any indication at all, as to how long she would be. Minutes?  Hours?  Surely not days?  Oh please don’t let it be days!

It was almost noon and the little sub, bobbing on the surface, was warming up like a tin can in the midday sun.  He did what all WASP submariners did on the surface in the heat, and stripped the poopysuit down to his hips, tying off the sleeves to keep it up.  He had already opened the aft hatch, but it was still stifling hot.  There were some sunglasses discarded on the control panelling.  He put them on and ventured just a little way outside the hatch.

Immediately, a closely moored neighbour nodded a sharp greeting to him, he nodded back, trying to be nonchalant, but it worried him and he retreated through the hatch again.  By 14.00 he was dying of the heat, still pacing, and drinking more than his fair share of the supply of water.  He should have been asleep by now, the rotational sleep-work-work-sleep on the Triton had seldom been interrupted in the last month and he’d gotten into the pattern.  Yawning, he reached for the textbook. Within minutes he was dozing.

Noises of someone boarding woke him abruptly.

“Ritter!  Ritter, you here?”  The aft hatch was still open and a tanned face looked in, fair haired, brown eyed.  Aggressively forcing himself into the cabin.  There was no point hiding, Gordon dropped the book out of sight and stood up slowly.

“No, my brother in law’s not aboard.” He tried to speak slowly, remembering that he was supposed to be a ‘farm boy who’s a bit slow’, it helped disguise any short failings in his Nettan.

The intruder looked him up and down, “So, what you doing on this sub?” He came up close, bristling with curiosity.

“He asked me to bringing it here!” Gordon could feel the sweat running down his spine and it wasn’t from the sweltering heat of the cabin.

“Where from?” The intruder was standing close now, he seemed ready to attack at the slightest mistake.

Shit, Ten hadn’t told him that, he shrugged languidly as though he didn’t really care. “I was taken to it, I got picked up and taken.”

The man nodded knowingly. “Yeah, okay. Tell Ritter I’ll catch him later.”

Once he was gone, Gordon rushed to close the aft hatch. Damn the heat, he definitely didn’t want any more visitors.

It was well after dark when Ten returned.  By then, to drive away the tedium of waiting, Gordon had been cleaning.  Nowhere obvious, in case of more visitors, no, he’d started in the engines.  To any engineer, there was nothing as satisfying as a clean, efficiently running, quiet engine.  The Stonefish had an old Pulse engine, Gordon had cut his teeth on them back in Cadet Training and it had been a pleasure to restore it, if only a little, from the disgusting state it had been allowed to become.

He shot out of the engine locker on hearing her at the hatch in the pitch black of the night.

“Whatever is that smell?” were her first words.

“Pulse debris, I’ve cleaned out loads, the engine should be nearly twice as fast going back!”

“Uggh!”  Her nose was ruckled and her eyes closed. “It smells like…  like…”

“Wet cats, yeah, we know, sorry about that!”

She knew her way around the sub well enough to hit the light.  Seeing him, half naked, covered in oil and smelling of a mixture of wet cats and sweat, was too much for her.  

“You!  In the water now!”  And again, it was evident that she was not used to being ignored, but just to reinforce her words, she reached out, grabbing hold of the dog tag chain around his neck and dragged him out, bodily throwing him overboard.  He’d let her, grinning widely, but even so, it turned him on how strong she was. “And don’t you dare climb back aboard until you’re clean!”

“Got any shampoo?”  He called in perfect Nettan.  Enjoying the cool of the water against his skin, he swam around the aft nacelles, clearing out weed and the odd barnacle that had risked its life on the duranium skin of the sub.  Next he climbed up and cleared the tail rudders, leaning across to scrub at the hydroplanes as best he could reach.

She threw him a bottle of something that smelt as sweet as her – he used it, taking his time, enjoying the coolness of the water after the heat of the day.

“Enough!”  She called him, her Nettan sharp and demanding, but even so, she had to call again, hell, he was hard to get out of the water.  “We have to get moving.”

He slung the red and blue suit aboard first, before hauling himself up, dressed now in only the WASP issue boxers he had worn under the suit. 

She’d already noticed his body – and quietly approved – but she hadn’t noticed the boxers before, “Oh, please!  Does WASP issue everything in turquoise?”

He looked down – “Oh, no, actually they don’t.  These are all issued in white but…”  He smiled, “There’s only one washer and dryer on board, everything becomes turquoise within a week or two!”

And for the first time, he thought he saw her smile with him instead of at him.  He didn’t push it, instead he took the little sub out from the port, speaking with the guard boat about their intended destination as they left.  In open water again they dived to 800 ft, levelling before she told him the next destination.  It would take less than an hour and she withdrew to the back to take a break whilst they travelled.

Gordon was in his element, the little manta class was faster, more responsive and went where he asked her to.  She turned out to be a lithe little thing and he was beginning to fall in love.

At the designated coordinates, he called Ten as he climbed into a standard WASP pressure wet suit for the dive.

“You won’t be able to wear that!” she had purposely waited until he had shimmied himself into the suit - she’d enjoyed watching, it was quite a spectacle.  “You’ll have to use one of theirs.” And she held out a suit ready for him.

He was ‘Aqus’ aboard the Triton, his role included dive safety for every crew member who dived from the sub - and if he had seen this suit there, he would have instantly ordered its destruction.  Old and shabby he could cope with, but the suit was holed in places and had faded pressurised markings.  He frowned when he finally deciphered the Psig rating on the worn tags and went to calculate the tank air pressures needed.  Reasonably happy with the results, he skinned himself of his own suit – again, something which fascinated Ten, reminding her of when cook used to skin rabbits at school.

He then slid into the rough one and scowled at her. 

She ignored the expression on his face.  “I’m expecting another sub to meet us in five minutes.”  She scanned the waters. 

He waited to hear more. “Do you know what class of sub?”  He waited again, hell she was infuriating. “Ten, what kind of sub are we waiting for?”

She frowned at him, “I have no possible interest in what kind it is!  It’s red, is that enough for you?” and she quickly added before he could answer, “It’s the kind that will get really close, looking through this screen to see who we are.  They should know me, but you – you have to look the blondest and brownest eyed that you can possibly manage – be Nettanian – get it?”

She was glaring at him.  What the hell was her problem?  He’d do it!  He couldn’t become more blonde and brown eyed just because she was yelling at him, so what was she asking?

“You’ll go over to them, don’t go aboard, just stay at the hatch!”  Her glare was becoming so intense. “You’ll be offered a case, accept it and leave. Nettanian, right?”

Now he wasn’t sure what she was asking and she spotted it in his face. “Aggressive!  Nettanians are all so bloody aggressive!  Hell, don’t you know anything?  They can’t even order a cup of tea without starting a fight!”

“I didn’t know they drank tea!”

It didn’t help, she was furious – “Seriously!  And you are the best that WASP could muster!” The mission was vital, more so than she would like to admit.  If the ceasefire was to hold or, better, have the chance to develop into a long lasting peace, the contents of that case had to be in her hands by the end of the day.  Despairingly, she looked at him.  “Can you just do this?” 

He nodded, perhaps now wasn’t the time for flippancy.

She watched him intently, vaguely toying with the idea of apologising.  She had, after all, been hard on him since they first met and he was about to swim, unarmed, to the enemy – perhaps he wouldn’t come back.  She discarded the idea as quickly as it had come.  He was WASP – he’d cope – or die, either way she wasn’t too worried as long as she had the case first.

Behind her, the craft arrived, it was larger than the Stonefish but not so well armed.  And yes, it was red!

It pulled closer and closer until they were nose to nose, as the new arrival studied the occupants of the manta.  Knowing now what was required of him, he walked to the front screens, blatantly glaring right back at them, he turned to her and demanded, “What are they waiting for?” His Nettan perfect in case they could lip read and the hand gesture magnificently aggressive.

Nicely done, she thought, then pushed passed him to make a gesture of her own to the opposite crew, a ‘have you got it’ gesture.

“Right, you’re on, and make it snappy, don’t speak, and don’t go aboard!”

He slid into the water and swam over to the red sub’s dive hatch, it was ready open for him, surfacing he was surrounded by five of the crew, none of which was holding a case of any kind.

“Who are you?”  the older woman of the group demanded.

He was silent.  

“I asked you - who are you?”  The woman stepped closer. “And don’t tell me you’re Paulie, I’ve just had it confirmed that Paulie is happily planting sugar beet at his farm!  So, who are you?”

Was silence the best policy here? He hoped he was right as he spoke. “Ritter sent me.”

Hands lifted him bodily through the hatch and plonked him down unceremoniously on the deck as the hatch was slammed shut.  His pressurised helmet was pulled back so fast he felt like they were trying to break his neck before his head slid free, his hands held firmly behind him.

“I don’t think so, we suspect Ritter was taken along with his crew.  I see that you’ve got Lammi on board with you. Is she your prisoner, a hostage perhaps?”  She dropped the Nettan and asked directly. “What are you here for?  To demand the lists for Ritter’s freedom, because that will never happen!  Take him away!”

The older woman, Lint, went back to the front screen, “We’re coming for you Lammi!”  She had a fondness for the girl with the blue eyes, she had no idea what may have happened to her in the hands of these evil WASP guys but Lint would have her brought aboard in safety.

\---------------------------

For goodness sakes!  What the hell had the WASP brat done?  Ten, aka Lammi, paced the cabin, four paces this way, four paces back.  The Stonefish’s comms had be purposely disabled, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea after all.

Divers came her way – for her?

\---------------------------

‘Safe’ aboard the red craft, Ten greeted Lint cautiously but was surprised by her greeting.

“Ah my darling girl, I am so sorry, did they hurt you at all?  I’ll kill that WASP if they did?” Lint put a motherly arm around her shoulders.  “I got news that Ritter was taken, then that you were in Peor as arranged but under guard.  One of our people talked to him, knew straightaway that he wasn’t Nettainian.”  She poured Ten a coffee. “Here, rest yourself!”

Ten had been thinking of every scenario that she could, she just needed the bare bones of their knowledge to put something into action.  She mapped it quickly in her head and said.

“The WASP was the best I could find in a hurry, I recruited him on their sub.  He’s a disillusioned junior officer, close to dismissal - he’s not very bright - easy to turn and I needed someone to get me out and away.  But I thought he looked vaguely Nettainina.”

“Oh he looked the part okay, even his Nettan was passable, but no, he didn’t have our confidence, our swagger.”  Lint smiled.  “We have him in the aft deck, did you want to keep him?  If so I better go and check on him, my crew can be a little over zealous at times.”

Ten saw him first, tied hand and foot, laying on one hip but with his shoulders and face flat to the decking.  There was blood.

“Oh sorry, Lammi my dear!”  Lint bent to check Gordon was still alive, “He’s not too badly broken.”

Ten grimaced at the sight of his face, but at least now he had more to worry about than his tender balls. “It’s okay Lint, maybe it will knock a little sense into him.”  She tried hard not to show her concern for him – what concern?  She huffed at herself, her one weakness, she was always a softy for puppies in distress.

“Oh I can arrange another beating, if you’d like me to!”

Ten’s stomach clenched, she looked away from his softly closed eyes and beaten body. She mustn’t go into puppy rescue syndrome, not now, she had left all that behind eight years ago.  “No, that’s fine, can he be cleaned up or something?”

“No-one spare, Lammi, unless you want to do it?”

Ten clenched her teeth. No, she must concentrate on the lists in the case. “Later.  Do you have the lists, I still need to get them to our base before anything else happens to them?”

“Safe and sound, Lammi, I knew Ritter had chosen a good one in you, come and I’ll show you.” And they dropped Gordon to fall once more onto his face.

Ten pushed any guilt she should have felt aside as she ate a good meal and had a long chat to Lint.   Undercover work demanded nothing less. No matter what, you had to keep up the appearance at all times.  Weaken and you were dead.  They were underway again, the Stonefish in tow.  Lint had offered to take Ten and the list to base herself, and so far, Ten could find no excuse feasible enough to stop her.  After two or three hours, she went back to Gordon, armed with first aid supplies.  He hadn’t moved. 

She turned him over more gently this time. He groaned. Okay so he was still alive, that was a bonus, she needed him to recover quickly enough to still pilot them away from there.  

With the crew working around her, she started with his face, most of the blood had come from a gash along his temple which, cleaned up, didn’t look so bad.  His jaw was bruising up deeply and there were dark marks of him being held tightly by the neck.  She unzipped the front fastening of his suit. Oh yes, here was more bruising to his ribs and stomach, kicked most likely, once he was tied and on the floor.  Nettainian aggression, she noted, she’d seen it before.  There was certainly no need for it, if he was bound, he was of no danger to anyone.

She ran her hand along his ribcage and across his stomach to his hips, there were no other wounds to his skin, just bruising.  She breathed very controlled breaths, aware of the involuntary wish she had to touch his body since the Captain’s room on the Triton, but this wasn’t quite what her hormones had in mind.  She let her hand descend down between the suit and his skin a little further, what was her intent?  To check his earlier bruising?  That which she had inflicted herself?  Her heart rate was up – this was no puppy rescue and she knew it.  Dammit! Not another WASP! Dammit, Dammit, Dammit! She ought to know better by now.

Not another WASP! She quashed it before it could start. Not another WASP!

This was just another dumb assed wet suit wearer, much like the last one, younger maybe, but just like him and he’d broken her stone heart – it should have been impossible, but he’d managed it anyway.

This kid, she looked down on Gordon and saw just how young he really was. He probably thought she had been unnecessarily hard on him since they met first, but it wasn’t this kid’s fault, it was the one before him.  Wherever that bastard was now.

She zipped up the suit with unnecessary force, he groaned again, but she refused to feel guilt.  She simply dragged him back into a recovery position and left.  Dumb assed WASP. 

He came round lying partially on his hip.  He could feel a plaster stuck to the side of his head and a disconcerting sensation of a lingering touch.   He discounted it, the pressure suit mixed with the kicking he’d received was probably the cause.  He tried to sit up, it took three attempts but he felt less nauseous upright.  He looked around him, confused. The aft decked area was almost dark, crew were working around him, untroubled by his prone presence.  He tried the bindings, plastic ties, purpose made and utilised far too tightly, he was vaguely aware that he wasn’t getting out of them.  He tried to ease his wrists, feeling the ice cold ache of his bloodless fingers.

“Sit still Lieutenant.”  It was her voice, some distance away from him, somewhere in the darkness.  “You’re safe enough, but they don’t trust you yet.”  She spoke in English to him, all pretence gone.  She was still in the pressure suit that they had brought her over in, as she stepped forward, “Are those too tight?”  She hadn’t checked earlier. “Lint, can these ties come off now?  I’ll vouch for him, he won’t do anything stupid!”  Then quietly, just to him, “Will you?”

A narrow shaft of yellow light lay across his face, just enough to see his brown eyes watching her. She could see his confusion, he had no idea where he was or why.  She’d have to keep him on a tight leash.  She smiled, ha!  Another puppy dog reference!

The bindings were cut away and he tried to bring his hands forward to get some blood back into his fingers, but his stiff shoulders refused to move. She bend over him and massaged the shoulders first, then once there was some movement, she also rubbed his hands between her own.  Shit, but he was cold.  She went to hold him close - dammit – no!  She told herself again.  Business first, she was only doing this because she needed him to pilot them away.  With that, and only that, in mind, she continued to rub his hands.  

“I need you alive, Lieutenant.” She spoke very quietly to him.  He watched her, half understanding, half lost to the ringing in his ears and the pain in his ribs.  Against her will, she had the compulsion to cup his bruised jaw in her hand, a reassurance that everything would be alright, but she lingered there only a second, unable to risk anyone seeing her.  He had momentarily closed his eyes, opening them as her hand touched his face. Was he imagining it, or was there a softening of her eyes?  He really wasn’t capable of any deeper thought and then he slept.  

On awakening, he could see daylight through the half open hatch. They had surfaced, a dockside perhaps or was it some sort of floating pontoons.  There was a commotion, scuffling of feet urgently over his head, a gunshot and a scream, followed by a splash of someone hitting the water to the left of him.

He struggled to his feet, stopped part way with his hands on his knees to regain his balance, until a second gunshot reverberated close by.  He went towards it, not seeing another living soul until he bumped headlong into Ten.

“Ah, good, you’re with me again, quick as you can please!  We need to be off this tub and gone!” She brushed passed him urgently.  His head delayed just a moment whilst he took in what she had said.

“NOW lieutenant, now!”  She was scampering down the rear gangway.  He followed, was she heading for the dive hatch?  He raced ahead of her, flinging back the hatch and sliding in the water ready to receive her.

“I think I ought to tell you right here and now, I don’t swim!” but she jumped in anyway.  Voices were too close behind them.

“Draw three long breaths!” he instructed.

“We don’t have time!” she complained but saw he was taking his own advice, a breath ahead of her, she rushed to catch up.

“Ready?”  

The voices were overhead now, she gasped in another quick breath as he took her round the waist from behind, pinched her nose tightly and placed the rest of his hand over her mouth, dragging her down into the dark brown slurry that was the docks water.  He felt her panic, desperate to be released.  She was strong, he was already aware of that, but he held on tight.

This was something he’d trained and trained for, this was his province and she wasn’t going to find him lacking in his knowledge and ability here.  He was aiming to swim as far away from the red craft as his own half prepared lungs could carry him. That could be hundreds of meters on a good day, but, along with the shortness of preparation time, his injured ribs had restricted his intake of oxygen.  

It was by shear accident that he swam them right into the towed manta, he hadn’t even know she was still with them.  By now, Ten was clawing away at his hands, panic having developed into terror. They could see nothing, no up, no down, no light.  Just dark brown water. 

He kept his hands tightly on her and felt his way to the hatch with his side and knees, it was slow progress with the struggling Ten, but then she fell silent and still.  He released her waist and pulled her under the Stonefish with his hand still over her mouth.  He pushed her up first through the hatch, and hauled himself up quickly behind her.

She wasn’t breathing but her heart was still racing.

He knew no water had got in so started mouth to mouth.  Again this was what he’d trained for from the age of 12, he watched her chest rise as his breath entered her, then, releasing her mouth, he turned to watch the breath leave as her chest fell.  His mouth over hers again, his fingers holding her nose less hard now. A second breath, a third.  This was his profession, he should feel nothing but the urgency of the matter in hand.  Why then did he feel a stirring within him?

Her eyes opened and she struggled to sit, he withdrew.

“You’re okay.”  He had his arm around her.

She looked daggers at him, “You stopped me breathing out there!” 

He grinned at the stupid statement, but then forgave it, he knew what condition she was in. “I stopped you drowning out there, we’re okay.”

She scowled deeply. “Then get us the hell out of here!” she yelled as a head bobbed up through the hatch, a harpoon gun in the hand that followed.  Gordon pushed him back down and slammed the hatch shut before racing to start up the engines, which began first time.  Even in the heat of the chase, she took a moment to remember that she had never heard the engines start first time before – Mmm, this guy was beautiful and resourceful, and she smiled.  

She may never have piloted the manta, but she had previous knowledge of its guns.  As the red sub chased after the Stonefish, she turned the guns on them, disappointed that her usual good aim was off. 

"Aim higher!”  Gordon shouted, “The force of the water….”

“I don’t care about the science!” she shouted back, but she did as he suggested and was successful. Still their pursuers came on relentlessly.  Gordon’s whole concentration was on avoiding the small ‘tarp’ missiles being thrown at them, shaking the small vessel as they exploded, rattling its dodgy hull and opening the crack in the single skin just a little, to the point it spat sea water at them.

“Can it cope with this sort of treatment?” Ten called.

He didn’t answer, not least because he wasn’t sure but also because he was in the zone now, he had the engine to that magic point where it should just burst away – if of course, he’d overhauled her well enough.  He waited, throttle hard down. Waiting.  Waiting.

A ‘tarp’ exploded too close for comfort near the aft trim tanks and the manta was flung sideways but at that very moment, he felt her respond, and he loved her even more for it.  She had done it for him, she’d appreciated the attention he’d lavished on her during that one afternoon and had repaid him in full.

Oh yes, he loved her!

They were out in clearer water now, fair flying through, the red craft being left behind.

He turned, hooting with joy at getting away, only to suddenly be aware that Ten had blood pouring down her front from a small wound in the neck - her beautifully fine swan neck – he gulped.  

It had been a shard from the damaged trim tank, and it had caught her neck.  It had taken her off her feet and she was kneeling, holding the wound tightly with the corner of her scarf, her eyes fixed on him.

He moved quickly to hold her as she sagged into his arms.  Folding the scarf into a pressure pad and holding it tightly, he assessed the wound, deep but not through the jugular.

She struggled to speak to him.

“Quiet now, until we get you somewhere!”

She shook her head, “No, you must listen.  I’ve got the listings, here,” and she dragged out a clip from inside the suit. “You have to get this to the GDF, they know what section, your admiral will help you.  But you hold on to it, don’t let it out of your sight until it is in the hands of the GDF.  Do you understand?”

He nodded.  “Now you stay quiet.”  He checked the progress of the blood loss.

She shook her head again. “No, I want to say sorry to you, I gave you a really hard time.  It wasn’t necessary but you reminded me of someone, you couldn’t help it but you did.”

He tried a sorry.

“No, not your fault, you’ve been great.”  Her words were weakening now, her eyes half closed.  

He dragged her over to the disconnected comms links, reconnecting them wasn’t his speciality but as everyone was trained in everyone else’s tasks on board a sub, he knew roughly what he was doing.  The Comms pipped up, loud and clear.

“WASP SM Stonefish to any WASP or GDF vessel, come in please.”  Nothing, he tried again. “SM Stonefish to any WASP or GDF vessel?”

“ _Kiddo, is that you_?”

“What the heck?  John!” Gordon could hardly believe it. “Of all the people, John!”  

“ _Hey son, what you doing?”_   It was his father next.

“I just don’t believe this, you’ve got the space station up and working?”

“ _Yep, we’re up and running, you’re one of the first calls we’ve received_.” It was so good to hear his father’s voice, but then this was no time for a social.

“Sorry but I’ve an emergency, Dad.  I’ve got a female, early 20s, with a lacerated neck wound, it’s not through the jugular but it’s bleeding profusely.  Can you find me some kind of medical officer protto?”  Gordon sounded so proficient that his father smiled.

John relayed the message, and of course, the Triton replied instantly.  “ _Thank you International…  Who did you say you were again_?”

John grinned at his father, “ _Oh you’ll get to know us, soon enough, I’ll relay you direct to_ …” John had to halt himself, what would he have said, to my kid brother?  No, he seldom made mistakes like that, “ _To the Stonefish_.”

“ _Triton to Stonefish_ ,” It was a day for the Triton not to know who they were talking to.  But they had hoped it would be their own lieutenant on the previously decommissioned Stonefish calling them. “ _We’re relaying our co-ordinates to you, are we close enough to assist you_?”

Gordon check, “Yes, I need an MO as soon as possible, please.”  If he didn’t know better he would suspect that the Trition had been shadowing the Stonefish, he certainly wouldn’t have put it past his Captain. 

He turned his attention back to Ten.

Her breathing was steady now, if she had thought she might die, she was going to have to think again, not on his watch!  She stirred a little.

“How you doing?”

Her throat has swollen, speaking was almost impossible, but she was a girl for the impossible.

“I’m not sure I’ve chosen the right career,” she whispered in beautifully enunciated English.

“Maybe after this you’ll consider a change of job.  Your rather beautifully long neck can’t stand much more of this kind of treatment.”  He nestled her into his arms as the Stonefish took herself to the rendezvous with the Triton.

Ten gulped a little harder than she expected, then said, “Strangely enough, I’d been looking at another opportunity, a private security position which would allow me to work from home!”  She smiled weakly, “I should have taken it before, then I wouldn’t be in this mess, would I?”

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure you’re not as badly hurt as you think.  The blood flow’s stopping.”  He was leaning over close to check the wound. Her hand came up and held his head even closer, eye to eye, she was smiling at him gently and, somehow, he felt it appropriate to steal a little kiss, nothing more than a brush of his lips on her forehead, and she didn’t object.  “Nope, there you go, the bleeding has stopped.”

“But I assumed it was the jugular!”

“Rubbish!”  He grinned at her.  She drew his head in again, this time it was her that instigated the kiss, so gentle, lip to lip.  She smiled, bless him, he had closed his eyes.  She hadn’t, watching his every move, the bruising on his face making him look older, blood still seeping into his wet hair reminding her that she wasn’t the only one in pain.

What a pair they had made, but through it all, they had succeeded.

“We should work together again.” She snuggled down on his chest.

“Not a chance, you’re way too dangerous to work round!”

She laughed a little, it hurt.  “You do promise me that you’ll get that clip to the GDF!”  She was serious again, he squeezed her gently.

“No need, you’ll be up and shouting at me again by the Mids Watch, you just wait and see!”  He was smiling at her.  “I’ll hold the clip until you ask me for it later, okay?  I think you’re the sort of person who likes to finish your own missions.”  And he let her sleep.  

There was no explaining just how relieved he was to be back aboard the Triton.  Ten was transferred to the sickbay with immediate reports that, yes, she would be okay from the medics.  

His first duty was to report on board to the Captain.  As he went to step away from the old Stonefish, he patted her hatchway, she’d done really well.  Now, he wondered what would happen to her, she was tethered to the Triton for now, but he could imagine how she would be, once the engineering teams of the Triton got their hands on her.  She was technically a prize ship, won from the enemy and WASP’s again by default.  He wondered who would be the lucky sod who got to command her once she was fit again.

“Lieutenant Gordon Tracy reporting for duty, sir.”  He gave the half-salute expected to his Captain, happy to be back in the turquoise of WASP.

“Hell Aqus!  What did she do to you?  Drag you through turbines or something?” The Captain inspected his returning officer, he looked a mess of injuries.  “Are you fit to serve?”

“Sir!” he affirmed.  He’d manage, nothing was that bad and they were still short of officers.

The XO came to stand close by. “Sir, if I may?”  And she turned to Gordon, “I’ve got some news for you, we managed to get an earlier slot for your Submarine Warfare Officer Qualifications exam, it’s in the morning – 10.00hrs.  We were worried you might not make it back in time.  So, are you fit enough to the exam?”

Shit, he’d have to be!

 

 

As promised, Ten found that Gordon was right, and she was up the next morning and able to find him, on duty and only too happy to hand over the valuable clip.

“Do I ever get to know what is on it?” he asked.  He still felt that closeness to her, though it could never go any further, it was ‘of the moment’ but nothing more, and he sighed at the thought.  She was just so beautiful when she wasn’t getting him damaged in some way or other.

She shook her head with the gentlest of smiles.  “Just know that you have helped to bring a permanent peace a little closer.  Sorry but that will have to be enough for you!”  She brushed her hand along the dark bruise of his jaw, she still wasn’t sure if he was fully shaving yet, but somehow he’d aged in her mind.  A worthy assistant to her exploits.  

The chief came to interrupt them, “09.30 ‘Aqus’.”

She frowned. “Something important?”

“My Submarine Warfare Officer Qualifications Exam.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, serious stuff then!” She drew him in, kissing him gently on the nose. He blushed, after everything they had accomplished together, he still blushed.  It was charming.  She laughed at him lightly, then held him in closer, tightly around the waist until his back arched delightfully and then kissed him properly.

“Hmmm, Aqus.”  The Chief coughed discreetly.

She grinned as she let him go. “Best of luck.”  

\---------------------

“ _Lieutenant Tracy to the Captain’s Stateroom, Lieutenant Tracy_!”  The words echoed throughout the whole sub, his head came up at them, shit, this would be his results!  He disentangled himself from the dive equipment he’d been logging and dusted himself down while moving swiftly through the sub.  Crew members watched him, they probably also knew what the call was for, everyone knew everything within such a small community.  He heard “best of luck!” from quite a few of them as he made his way to the Captain.

He already thought he had a pass, but command would depend on how good a pass, even with officers in such short supply, WASP wasn’t fool enough to give command to an idiot.  He’d tried so hard not to think of the little Stonefish as she tagged on behind them, currently being used for odd jobs.  He’d tried so hard not to set his heart on being offered her, but it was just too fantastic a dream.  The mantas were like the jet fighters of the sea, single crewed, faster than lightening, patrol craft singled out for a massive array of tasks – oh if only!

The XO was at the Captain’s door, a dour look upon his face. “What took you so long?”

Gordon ducked down through the door and gave the required half salute.  There was a worrying sombre air about the room. The Captain was working, head down to his screen, but he waved the young lieutenant to just stand and wait.  Gordon had the uncomfortable feeling that things were not going his way, was it his results?  Were they that bad?  Hell!  His legs went to jelly, this was worse than dealing with Ten.

As the Captain looked up finally, his frown met the young Lieutenant’s own. 

“I am not accustomed to my officers letting me, or the reputation of the Triton, down.  Not at all!”  He stood, his frown had become a scowl.  How could Gordon have got it so wrong, it must have been the exam, but what could he have done so badly?  He usually aced every one, he’d even put in additional study time.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew he was shaking.

He heard the XO scoff behind him, and the Captain immediately smiled. “S’okay Aqus, steady there!”  And the Captain put out a steadying hand towards the young officer who’d gone as white as a sheet.  “The XO and I had a little bet on how you would react if you thought you’d failed!”  He was laughing now - Gordon wasn’t!  “You aced it, lad – well done!”  He was shaking Gordon’s hand now, the XO was patting him on the back, but all he could think of was not throwing up over the Captain’s floor.

Finally he managed a “Thank you, sir.”

The Captain looked at him askew, “You okay now?”  Gordon nodded. “Right then, new orders!” The Captain opened a turquoise file and removed the printout of the new orders.  Gordon recognised the document with the darker phthalo blue edge, he’d received them with each promotion.

“Commander Tracy.”  The Captain accentuated the first word formally, “You’ve been reassigned, (as though I can afford to lose you from the Triton), to 180 squadron in the South Pacific with immediate effect, attached to Admiral Kaivai’s fleet, in…”  He waited just that split second, enough time for the new Commander’s heart to leap, to hope, to…  “The Stonefish!”

“Yes!” Gordon jumped and grabbed at the air!

“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself too much, she still needs a lot of work, she’ll probably be the slowest manta class in Kaivai’s fleet but you can keep working on her.”  The Captain placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder, “We all guessed it was what you wanted – you’re not meant for a lumbering great monster like the Triton, you were meant to fly!  We can all see that!  You enjoy her.” He smiled. “We shall all miss you, you’ve been popular amongst the whole crew and done a great job here.  But destiny awaits you, make it so, Commander, make it so!”

Dismissed, Gordon turned to leave, as the Captain remembered one more thing, “Oh and Commander, you report for duty with Admiral Kaivai at 18.00hrs - that should give you just a few moments to drop off at your father’s place.  I’ve cleared it with the Admiral.”

Gordon grinned widely, an added bonus that he wasn’t expecting.  He just hoped his father was home from the space station and… maybe his little guy in the lab could take a quick look at the Stonefish’s engine!  Gordon shook the hand of his Captain and XO and turned to pack his kit speedily and say his goodbyes.

The Captain smiled at the slight swagger in Gordon’s walk, then taking up the sub’s comms announced to all, sub-wide. “Engineering - make ready SM Stonefish for Commander Tracy, please!”

And then his listened to the hearty cheering that went through the whole sub. 


End file.
